


The Babysitting Affair

by spikesgirl58



Series: Mouth of Babes [41]
Category: Man from Uncle - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-02
Updated: 2013-05-02
Packaged: 2017-12-10 05:30:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/782358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Illya and Napoleon have love on their minds, but their grandchildren have other plans...  A very slashy Mouth of Babes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Babysitting Affair

**Author's Note:**

  * For [not2bscene](https://archiveofourown.org/users/not2bscene/gifts).



Illya walked out onto their tiny back porch.  The sun was starting to dip behind the tree line and the heat of the day was beginning to release its grip.  The third floor of the house afforded an incredible view across their suburban neighborhood.  Best of all, no one could see them.  Illya liked the privacy.

Napoleon was sitting in a lounge chair and caught Illya’s hand as he passed.  Illya looked at him, a half smile on his lips.  With  the gentle suggestion of a tug, Napoleon pulled Illya down onto his lap.

“Hi, sailor, come here often?”

“Not half as much as I’d like.”  It was an old joke and it fit comfortably around them like a well-loved blanket.

They kissed, slowly and without aggression.  They’d been in love for many years; it had been a long time since their work and its danger had forced them into frantic couplings.  Now they had the luxury of taking their time.

Napoleon smiled as the tip of Illya’s tongue stroked his lips teasingly before dipping inside.

Then the phone rang.

“Ignore it,” Illya ordered, even while retreating.

“I can’t.  You know that.”  As the head of UNCLE, Napoleon’s free time was rarely his own, even on a day off.  He waited for Illya to leverage himself to his feet and then got up, grunting with the effort.  He got to the phone just before the answering machine kicked in.

“Hello?”  There was a blast of static.  Whoever was calling was using a mobile phone.

“Hey, Dad, this is your son.”

“Yes, Leon, I figured that when you called me Dad.”

“Oh… oh, yeah, Dad, I need a favor.”

Napoleon closed his eyes as Illya’s hand drifted down Napoleon’s side and across his ass.  “Yes, what can I do for you?”

“I think Lisle is about to explode.  Ginny’s old enough to be alone for a few hours, so I thought I’d take Lisle out for dinner and some dancing.  Do you think you and Illya can watch the gang?”

“What about Genève?”

“They have her working late on a special project for Section Three.  I’m surprised Illya didn’t brief you.”

“I want you,” Illya whispered softly in Napoleon’s other ear and he sucked the earlobe in and tenderly abused it.

Napoleon tried to repress the groan, pushing Illya away.  “Stop,” he whispered back.

“I’m sorry, Dad, I can’t hear you.  Stop what?”

“Sorry, Leon.  Illya is being a distraction.  When do you want us?”

“I’m pulling in the driveway now.  About ten minutes?  I don’t think I’ll have to talk very hard to convince her.”

Napoleon sighed and nodded.  “Okay… ten minutes.”  He hung up the phone and turned to face his partner.

Illya release the earlobe.  “What’s in ten minutes?”

“We have been asked to babysit.  Whatever you have planned, we have ten minutes.”  Napoleon felt Illya’s erection prodding him.

“What I have planned will take much longer than that.” 

“Then you are going to have to put that on--” Napoleon broke off at the pounding on his door.

“Hey, Grampy, you in there? “  Alex’s voice was muffled.  “I think he’s in there!”

Napoleon glanced down at Illya’s deflating erection.  “You better put that away before we have a load of explaining to do.”  He kissed Illya’s brow and headed for the door as Illya walked to the bathroom.

“Hey… oh, hi, Grampy.”  Alex was all grins.  “Daddy sent me up here to tell you it’s all go.  Did you know that Ginny barfs a lot?  Why is it called a grounder for a line drive, but not a sky-er when it’s when it a pop fly?  How come we don’t drive on the same side of the road as the British do?”  Alex glanced over as Illya came out of the bathroom, tucking in his shirttail.  “Hi, Poppy.  Hey, Poppy, how come some birds eat worms and others eat seeds?”

“Oh, good, saved by the cavalry.”  Napoleon ruffled Alex’s blond hair affectionately.  

“Watch the hair, Grampy!”  Alex’s hands flew to his head as he began to pat his hair back into place.

“Now, who does that remind me of?”  Illya murmured.

 “You field questions and I’ll get our marching orders.”

“Are we marching?”  Irina appeared at the bottom of the staircase leading to the third floor, carrying Inessa.  Peter trailed behind, not looking pleased but obviously not willing to be left out.

“That we are, soldier.”  Napoleon pointed.  “Hup, two, three, four!”

Irina put Inessa down and the little girl hopped in place. “Hop, two, free, four.”

“Not hop, Nessie, hup.”  Irina took a big step.  “Like this.” 

Peter giggled and grabbed her hand.  “Come on, Ex!” he yelled up to his older brother.

Alex sighed.  “Sorry, Poppy, Petey needs me.”

“That’s okay.”

“But the answers to my questions --”

“Will all come clear in time.”  Illya patted his shoulder.  “Go. Peter is waiting for you.”

                                                                                ****

 

Illya rested his arm on the pillow and adjusted his grip on the bottle.  He rubbed the tip over Ginny’s mouth but the baby responded by squirming and turning her face away.

“Whacha doing, Poppy?”  Irina climbed upon the couch beside her grandfather.  Illya winced as the rocking  jostled his hip.

“I’m trying to get Ginny to take her bottle, but she won’t open her mouth.”

“Do what Mommy does.”

“What’s that?”

“Show her your nipple.”

“I think I’ll pass.”  He tried again.  No luck.

“Let me try something, Poppy.  Ginny, Ginny, look at me!”  The baby looked in Irina’s direction and Irina made a face.  Ginny giggled and Irina’s motions became more extravagant.  “Hurry, Poppy, these are some of my best faces!”

Illya slipped the rubber nipple into Ginny’s mouth and the baby immediately began to suck.  “I knew you were hungry,” he said to the baby and then glanced up at his other little girl.  “Thank you, Irina.  How did you get so smart in the ways of babies?”

“You don’t get to be six without learning a few tricks, Poppy.”  She slid off the couch and raced away.

Illya studied the small bundle in his arms.  She was their miracle baby.  He kissed her forehead gently and big brown eyes shifted up to meet his.  A foreshortened arm waved and the tiny fingers found a bit of shirt material and clutched it.

“Не волнуйся. Я не позволю тебе уйти (Do not worry.  I will not let you go),” he whispered softly and then felt fingers fanning through his hair.  He looked up and smiled at Napoleon.

“Do you know how much in love you look right now?”

“Heart and soul.”  Illya stroked Ginny’s cheek with his forefinger

“You know, the grandkids will be going to bed at nine and our kids won’t be back until around midnight… we could always pick up where we left off.”  Napoleon’s fingers traced Illya’s ear and he shivered.

“I’d like that.  All we have to do is get the kids to bed…”

Just then Peter walked into the room and over to his grandfathers.  His shirt, face, and hair were smeared with peanut butter.  He held out a mangled bit of bread to Illya.

“Peaj, P?”

“No, thank you.”  Illya shook his head firmly.   To Napoleon, he said, “I thought you were making dinner.”

“I was.  I am... I got distracted.”  He held out his hand.  “Come along, Peter.”  Napoleon winced as he got a handful of mushy bread.  “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“Food?”

“Yes, Peter, there will be food involved.”

Illya checked the bottle and let it slip from Ginny’s mouth.  Reached for a diaper, he draped it over his shoulder and lifted Ginny.  Patting her back firmly, he rocked slightly.

“What are you doing, Poppy?”  Alex wandered into the family room, carrying a book and a piece of paper.

“Is this a trick question?  What does it look like I’m doing?”

Alex grinned, “Waiting to help me with my math homework.”

“You were supposed to finish that this afternoon.”

“I worked on my science project instead.”

“How is that going?”

“Good until Nessa wanted to see the volcano explode.”

“What happened?”

“I showed her.”

“When?”

Inessa came running into the room, laughing wildly, her hair and clothes streaked with red.  Irina was right behind her, carrying a small toy mop and plastic bucket.  “Nessie, get back here!”

“Um, about five minutes ago.”

“What is the red?”

Catsup, mostly, but I put in some cake batter, too.  Red velvet.”

Illya closed his eyes.  Nothing stained like red velvet cake batter.  “Why?”

“Because my book said that pahoehoe lava is more like batter, so I thought…”

Inessa tripped and fell.  She let out a wail and Illya half stood, lifting Ginny off his shoulder just as she spit up.  Illya caught the brunt of it on his neck.  Inessa got to her feet and flung herself at her grandfather, knocking him back to the couch.

At that moment, Napoleon walked in while studying a pack of cellophane-wrapped chicken.  It was bulging and was warm to the touch.  “Illya, how long can chicken be defrosted before it’s unfit to use.”  He glanced up then and smirked.

“Don’t say a word,” Illya snarled as Irina attempted to mop his leg.

“I think I’m going to order take out.”

“Pizza! Pizza!” Peter cried happily.  He stopped and stuck a finger into a glob of red on Inessa’s shirt, then into his mouth.  “Mmm, taste good.”

“Why is it he can say pizza but not poppy?” Illya wiped the spit up off his neck with the diaper and Ginny giggled.  “You think that’s funny, do you?  You think you can vomit on an UNCLE agent and get away with it?”  She gurgled and laughed.

“Man has his priorities,” Napoleon said.  “I’ll go get you a wet towel.”

“And a large plastic sack.  Inessa, stay here.”

“’Kay.”  She hugged him again and Illya sighed as the red batter ooze through the material of his pant leg.

“And hurry.”

                                                                                ****

 

Napoleon walked into the family room and collapsed upon the couch.  A moment later, Illya followed.  He sat, then winced and reached beneath him to pull out a truck.  He tossed it over onto a chair and flopped back.

“Did you get the laundry swapped from the washer to the dryer?”

“Uh, huh.  Did you get the peanut butter out of the carpet?”

“Uh, huh.  Were you able to get Alex to finish his homework?”

“Eventually.  Did you get the twins to sleep?”

“I bribed them with convertibles on their 18th birthday.”

“They are three. They don’t even know what convertibles are. “

“That’s what I’m counting on.”  Napoleon placed his hand over Illya’s and for a moment, that was enough.  “Do you still have enough energy?”

“If properly motivated.”  Illya’s lips curled into a smile.

Napoleon leaned over.

“GRAMPY!  Peter’s eating the toothpaste!”  Irina’s voice bellowed down from upstairs

“How can something so small make so much noise?”  Napoleon groaned and got to his feet.  “Hold that thought, my love.”

“It’s about the only thing I can hold.”  Illya watched after his partner for a moment and then he also stood.  Trudging out to the kitchen, he intended to clear the garbage off the table.  Instead, he entered and his foot skidded on the linoleum.

With a yelp, he grabbed onto the door frame and held on.

A moment later, Napoleon was there.  “You okay?”

“Yeah, I slipped.”  Illya turned on the light and groaned.  Chewy looked up at them and his tail thumped happily amid the scattered garbage.  “Whose idea was it to bring a dog into this family?”

                                                                                ****

 

Wearily, they walked from the now clean kitchen back towards the family room.  Napoleon caught Illya’s hand and turned him, pushing him against the wall.  He followed and their bodies touched a moment before their lips did.  Napoleon’s hand fell to caress Illya’s genitals through his pant’s fabric.  Illya pressed against the hand and deepened the kiss.

“Poppy, Irina wet the bed!”

“I did not!  It was my doll!

“You lie.”

“No, you’re a poopy head!”

“I don’t believe this.”  Napoleon stepped back and lifted his hands.  Illya walked away, shaking his head ruefully and adjusted his pants.

There was a noise at the door, a strange scratching sound.  Chewy was in the house, so it wasn’t him.  Walking quickly to the closet, Napoleon opened the door and rapidly worked the combination on the gun safe.  Once open, he grabbed a gun, Illya’s in this case, and slapped a clip into it.

Just then the door opened and Genève stepped in.  She froze at the sight of the gun, then stammered, “I know I’m late, but I was trying to be quiet.”

“It wasn’t your fault, sweetheart.”  Napoleon lowered the weapon and dropped the clip out.  He locked both it and P-38 away and turned back to her.  “I’m sorry I scared you.”

“I’m sorry I scared you.”  She paused and then continued.  “Are you okay?  You look a little flushed and your lips are red.”

Napoleon touched his mouth and then grinned.  “You weren’t here earlier.  We had a volcano go up and Alex put Red Velvet cake batter inside.  It got everywhere.”

“I can see.”  She kissed his cheek.  “I’m going to go to bed.”

She started up the staircase only to stop as Illya came down, carrying an armload of bed linens.  “Don’t expect to sleep up there.”

She gave him a kiss as well.  “They are in fine fettle then?”

“You have no idea.”  Illya made it to the base of the stairs.  “So much for the plans of mice and men.  You look a little tired.”

“I am.  It was a long day, but the testing went well.”

“What testing?”

Illya jerked a head in Napoleon’s direction and gave Genève a half smile.  “Listen to him.  You’d think he runs the place or something.”

“Or something.”  Napoleon gestured towards the family room.  “Can we talk?”

                                                                                ****

The men didn’t move from their position on the couch.  After a debriefing from Genève, neither man had the desire or energy to move.

“Illya?”

“I know.”

“If I had the energy, I’d kiss you.”

“If I had the energy, I’d let you.  What we need is a list of things to say as verbal foreplay to speed up the process.”  Illya gestured with a weary hand.  “I could say, two, three, nine, seven and you could respond one, four, eight and five.  Such an energy saver.”

“No, what I need is to stop thinking I’m thirty and can handle five children.” There was a noise and a shushing of voices.  “I do believe the chickens have returned to roost.”

“Hey, you two.” Leon waved happily to them

“Oh, Leon, tell me you took a cab?”  Napoleon sat up, but didn’t try to stand.

“He did, although it was a struggle.”  Lisle looked a bit less drunk, but she had a look of serenity over her that belied her complete sobriety.  “Kids give you any trouble?”

“No more than usual.”  Illya decided it would be best to leave the details for the morning.  He stood.  “We will now turn them over to you.  I’m going to bed, if I can rally the strength.”

“We could push,” Leon offered and then snickered.  “Sorry, that came out wrong.”

“Good night, Leon.  Good night, my love.”  Illya kissed his daughter and she caught him in a long hard hug.

“Thank you so much for this evening.  You don’t know what it meant to me… to us.”

Illya nodded and waited for her to release him.    “Are you coming, Old Man?” he said to Napoleon

“Right behind you.  The view’s better that way.”

Grabbing the banister for support, he hauled himself up the two flights of stairs to their apartment and stumbled happy into Napoleon’s bedroom.

“Forget the way?”  Napoleon asked, slightly amused.  Illya’s bedroom was on the other side of the living room.

“No.  I figured if I couldn’t have sex with you, the next best thing would be to sleep with you.  Besides, there’s always tomorrow morning.”

“You’d be late for work?”

“I think my boss would will understand and be lenient.”

“I understand he can be a hard ass at times.”

“Mmm, one can only hope.”  Illya stripped off and didn’t bother to do anything else with his clothes besides put them in a pile to one side.  “First one to sleep wins.”

Napoleon climbed into bed a split second behind him and sighed happily.  “This has to be what heaven feels like.”

“Did you lock and bolt the door?”

“I did.”

“Give me a few hours sleep and I’ll show you what heaven really feels like.”  A soft snore met him and Illya smiled.  He turned out the light and nestled closer to his partner.

And peace finally descended upon the house.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
